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Multiple Settings Ye Ole' Gay Novella Search (Original/1x1/Fantasy or Apoc)

Sub Genres
  1. Action
  2. Adventure
  3. Cyberpunk
  4. Dystopian
  5. LGTBQ
  6. Magical


the only straight in me is a straight up bitch
EDIT: (6/12/21): Closed, please no more requests, oh gosh oh goodness.

Hello, friends! As my spring semester has come to an end, I am looking for a new RP partner. I'm only looking for one for now so I can dedicate the necessary time to it. Please give most of this a glance over. :) If you're interested, PM me with an introduction and what you're lookin' for! Let's keep this tidy and short. <3

PS: I recommend reading RP preferences first so you can decide if we're compatible or not.
PS PS: Check the latest posts in this thread to see if there's anything particular I'm interested in! These change regularly.

About Me

  • Call me Lunar or any other nickname! Any pronouns.
  • In the 18+ range and a full-time college student. Zoology and medical field enthusiast, happy to answer your curiosities and help you in those areas.
  • Member of LGBTQ+ community and completely friendly towards any gender, sexuality, pronoun requests, and etc. You are safe with me.
  • Poor eyesight; RPN's color themes strain my eyes. When we write, please bold or color dialogue. This helps keep everything from being a giant blob. PLEASE no complicated coding or small texts/fonts. I can't read them.
  • Heavy metal nerd. We can get into debates over the best symphonic black metal band.
  • Terribly ADD and socially anxious. Please bear with me if I am prone to getting off topic, if I have lost track of the time, or if I disappear for a couple days. In the same light, if you need accommodations due to any condition, just ask. I will be happy to cooperate.
  • GHOST FRIENDLY. I will always be here if you want to come back. Don't ever feel scared or guilty if you want to end the RP without telling me. It's okay.
  • Discord available on request. It's easier to contact me for OOC things there.

Writing Sample

Alarms. Flashing lights; red, white, and then black. Screams. A wailing chorus, sung in the language of the dead and the dying. No instruments, save for the hoarse cries of the damned and gunshots' piercing crackles. Haunting. Hell on earth, desperation given form in the echoing pleas of those who would know no mercy. Dripping blood and flesh and viscera, insides turned out and scattered remains. Final prayers, calling out to a God who held no dominion here. There was no one coming to save them.

They flooded the tight halls like a devouring swarm of locust, grossly contorted limbs snapping and cracking and twisting and writhing. Gnashing teeth and wicked talons. Strings of gore and bone that hung from their howling jaws. Insanity. Delirium. These were no longer the people they once knew. Senior Lieutenant Genrich lunged at Doctor Kasimov, ripping her throat out with a frenzied assault. A grisly shower of hot ichor sprayed from where her jugular had once been, and her dying words were nothing more than a sputtering whisper.

Major Belkin made his final stand at the entrance to the research facilities. His right forearm loosely dangled, a fractured fragment of his ulna puncturing through his skin – a casualty to the initial explosion that breached the bunker. He may have not known it, but he was already dead. A single automatic weapon was nothing against the endless, all consuming tide. For each foul fiend he dispatched, three more took its place. There was no end to them, and he must have known that. Before they overtook him completely, the Major took his own life with a single bullet underneath the jaw.

The holding chambers were compromised. An emergency failsafe mechanism, designed to prevent the subjects from becoming trapped in the event that the power grid malfunctioned. Irony at its finest; what was once intended to protect them would now be their undoing. The metal doors released, exposing the helpless inhabitants to the mindless wretches. Soon, they too were gone, leaving pooling splatters of crimson red where they had once been. Women, children, the weak, the old, the crippled. None were safe from death's cruel hand.

They begged for help. Reached out to the fallen soldiers around them, their glassy eyes permanently frozen in terrified horror. They didn't deserve this. She should have put them out of their misery.

But she didn't.

She watched their last moments. Stood and stared at them like the coward she was, letting them be ruthlessly torn to shreds. Twice, her fellow comrades screamed her name. 'Volkov. Volkov. Help us, Volkov. You can't leave us.'

Twice, she ignored them. She told herself that there was nothing she could have done. A lie.

Hidden in the shadows of the observation deck, Lieutenant Colonel Volkov betrayed her platoon and allowed them to die. Out of the twenty-four personnel and thirteen patients, two survived. They stood together, looking over the gruesome aftermath. Not a single word was spoken between them.

This was the beginning of the end

A light flurry of drifting snowflakes fell from the clouded heavens, spiraling slowly down onto the frozen earth below. A faint breeze lingered in the frigid air, whispering through barren branches and empty streets, carrying loose flyers and the faint memories of civilization with it. Flocks of birds flying south for the coming winter took to the bleak skies, carrying on without the slightest care in the world. She thought of how much she envied their ability to fly away from these barren lands, to escape the insanity and flee to greener pastures.

Ahead of them, a desolate town laid silent – a rotting artifact of what had once been. Its winding streets stood empty, cobblestone roads decrepit from a lack of maintenance and blocked with the scattered vehicle wrecks of those who perished in the evacuation bottlenecks. Broken glass littered the pavement, rendered dull from dark smears of muddy blood that had dried long ago. Bearing shattered windows and charred wood, many of the shops were already pillaged, burned, and destroyed. In the initial panic, one's fellow man proved to be a greater threat than any of the ravenous fiends that stalked the earth. Those who died early were the lucky ones.

It was a grim, and relatively discouraging sight. What remained was slim pickings, and Katya did not doubt that terrible things lurked in the shadows.

Lowering her binoculars, she used the edge of her jacket sleeve to wipe away the condensation fogging over its lenses. She was not oblivious to the faint shadow falling over her from behind, the lurking pest invading her precious bubble of personal space. Blinking, she slowly turned her gaze to acknowledge the nuisance, for she would not have left her alone otherwise.

“…What're you doing?'

She huffed, fiercely fighting down the urge to reply back with a coarse 'what does it look like I'm doing?' It took a great deal of patience to put up with the idle rattlings of a child, let alone one who thought it necessary to question every little thing in life. Satisfied with her half-hearted attempt at cleaning them, she returned the binoculars around her neck and stood.

“We're going into town.' Not a comment, nor a suggestion. A command. She had no time for complaints, concerns, or more goddamn questions. If the girl didn't like it, then she could remain here by herself until she returned. “Low on your antibiotics. And vitamins. …And caffeine.'

Her meager companion – Marie – did not seem fond of this idea. Katya wasn't surprised. Any other time she would have opted to just leave her at their shelter, but in the past month, their current situation had become far more dangerous. Hordes drifted from the north, perhaps drawn here by the foolish souls who thought they might find salvation in the ruins of where society was. Only an idiot believed in the 'safe havens'; even if they did exist, no one survived through generosity and mercy.

The carriers were one problem, but other survivors were another. She couldn't afford the risk.

“I-I thought you said it was bad down there?' Marie anxiously whined, gently trotting to keep up with the woman's much longer strides. The gentle crunching of her boots against the tightly packed snow annoyed her more than usual.

“It is.'


The soldier silenced her protests by simply continuing onwards. A gloved hand rested comfortably on where her trusty machete was sheathed, but she did not draw it. Preparation for the unexpected was key. Slipping on ice and gutting yourself with a giant knife in your hand, however, was not key. Her rifle remained strapped to her shoulder, although it was rarely ever necessary – too loud. The small, military-issued pistol holstered at her hip was a far better option if worse came to worse. Realistically, the larger firearm served as more of an intimidation tactic than a weapon; almost nobody was stupid enough to point a gun at someone who had an automatic one.

Their trek to the outer reaches of the small village was uneventful. Along the way, they encountered two meandering infected that Katya promptly disposed of without issue. The presence of them this far out was enough to make her uneasy – they always heard you before you could hear them, and where there was one, there was many.

While luck may have seemed on their side as they arrived at a peaceful scene, things were never that easy.

Many of them were likely stowed away in the buildings, lulled into inactivity from the chilling cold and the lack of fresh prey. Listening. Waiting. With a single misstep, an entire town's worth of the beasts could be upon them in mere minutes. Katya was confident in her own ability to retreat from such a perilous situation, but there was more to her mission than survival. Without the precious research she escorted, making it out alive meant nothing.

“…Stay close.' To her credit, the girl took orders well. She fell in by her side, and stayed there.

They prowled through the forlorn streets like two ghosts, passing through as soundlessly as the wind. Mangled, decaying corpses were strewn about the area, their skeletons picked clean by the crows. An empty baby stroller, overturned, rested in the road. A small minivan with its doors still open was parked over the curb, and a bloodied child's toy dangled out from the rear passenger's side. This was no longer the realm of the living.

All that was left of this place was bitter memories and the dead.

RP Preferences

  • Novella writer at college level; expect average word count of 700-1500+ words. Small writing samples available on request; due to a prolonged absence from RP (about six months!) I don't have any collaborative samples on hand.
  • Expectation of similar effort and skill. You do not have to maintain novella lengths, but I want you to at least put in the same amount of work I do. Please do not give me a 50 word post when I give you a 2000 word one. I am not a stickler to word counts and never will be, but I will know if you're not putting any thought into it.
  • Average posting schedule three to four times a week; more or less depending on how busy I am.
  • I have the tendency to lead the plot; if you would like to, however, just let me know. I have no problem taking the reins so long as you occasionally contribute through subplots, NPCs, or your own ideas.
  • LGBTQ+ romances preferred. I rarely do heterosexual pairings. WLW relationships are my absolute favorite and will earn you major brownie points and an abundance of art for our lesbos.
  • My characters are all premade and will be used in other RPs. I do not make characters for one RP only. You are, however, welcome to use premade or non-premade characters to your liking.
  • Worldbuilding is a must for me. I love getting into all the nitty gritty details and tailoring our world to our story.
  • I don't do doubling.
What I'm looking for:
  • Mid-to-high fantasy setting, not strictly historically accurate. Medieval technology. We can either go with a stereotypical world or we can tailor our own; on the other hand, if there's a specific fantasy setting from a book, game, etc that you're interested in, we can try to base it off that. And for those in the know, yes, I am into the Warcraft setting. Ask. //wink
  • Modern fantasy with more of a setting to it than "lol angels and fairies bro". I'm a fan of the type of setting where supernatural creatures have a huge stigmatism and have to live hidden behind closed doors. I have an idea or two for this, just ask.
  • An apocalyptic dystopian setting, but preferably without zombies because I already have one of those going. Might be persuaded into doing cyberpunk as well.
  • Potential slow burn romance. This isn't a must, just a little indulgement.
  • Casual experience without too much dependence on fast posts and making everything perfect. Let's just vibe, y'know?
  • 18+ players preferred. Not a requirement, so long as you're mature.
  • Interesting character dynamics. Bonus points if they don't get along at the start.
Listing my characters will take too much time as there's a million of them, and most are fairly developed. I have somebody for just about any scenario or pairing you could think of, so don't be afraid to shoot some random shit at me! I understand this is a somewhat vague ad, but I'm not looking for anything too specific; this is more of an all call than anything. If you have any ideas regarding potential plots, dynamics, pairings, or so on, hit me with a message. I'll be more than happy to get to work with you and pull a couple characters out of the bag for you to choose from. I hope to hear from you soon!

Please do not respond in this thread. DM me instead.
Last edited:


the only straight in me is a straight up bitch
Very specific craving: I'm looking for a modern low fantasy set in the 1970s, probably somewhere in Louisiana - or more specifically, New Orleans. I've got a big, gruff, and beefy werewolf babe that I'd like to get involved in some miscellaneous trouble. I'm leaning more towards the 'supernatural are not a very known thing and are very scary to the public' for this one, because the possibilities for mayhem are too great to not do it. Looking for any type of character for this long, as long as they're feminine-identifying or on the nonbinary spectrum. Masculine-identifying characters need not apply unless they enjoy being cracked like a glowstick.

Why yes I've been watching playthroughs of Mafia 3 again...why do you ask?

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